


you got a face that begs for love

by tartymoriarty



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Maycury Week, this was totally inspired by that scene in The Deathly Hallows p1, you know the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 11:54:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20527610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tartymoriarty/pseuds/tartymoriarty
Summary: Brian glances at Freddie again. Freddie’s mouth is still downturned, his eyes are still sad, and that simply will not do.





	you got a face that begs for love

**Author's Note:**

> So this song came out in 2006 but let's ignore that alrighty 
> 
> Maycury Week day four with the prompt "May I have this dance?"

_you burned your way into my heart_  
_ you got the key to my brain_  
_ I’ve been trampling through mud_  
_ praying to the powers above_  
_ I’m sweating blood_  
_ you got a face that begs for love_  
**Spirit On The Water | Bob Dylan**

Brian finds the flat unusually quiet when he comes home from work and at first the lack of unnecessarily loud voices (Roger), equally loud music (John) or bickering (all of them, usually Freddie-instigated) makes him think he’s got the place to himself.

When he closes the door behind him, he realises there is some music playing in the flat – it’s soft, though, something quiet and melancholy. He follows the sound of it and opens the living room door to find Freddie curled up in a little ball on the sofa whilst a vinyl spins on the record player in the corner.

Freddie doesn’t realise he’s there right away; he seems lost in his own little world. He’s hugging his knees to his chest, which makes him look absurdly small; Brian smiles at the sight before he takes in Freddie’s expression, and then his smile fades.

Freddie looks unbearably sad about something, and if Brian isn’t mistaken, his eyes look a bit red as though he’s been crying. His heart immediately clenches and he keeps his voice low when he asks, “Alright, Fred?”

Freddie jumps anyway, immediately raising a fist to rub at his eyes as though trying to chase away any tell-tale tear tracks. “Oh hi darling, yeah I’m – all good, how was work? Did you get that project finished?”

“Nearly,” Brian says, hovering by the doorway – Freddie’s moving up on the sofa to make room for him but Brian doesn’t want to crowd him. “How was the market?”

Freddie’s mouth becomes a little tighter and Brian winces at his own stupidity. Of course. Freddie’s been at the stall alone today, he’s back earlier than he should be, and he’s upset. So: something has happened at the market to upset him.

“Same as ever,” Freddie says, his voice light, but Brian knows him well enough to hear the strain lurking beneath.

He doesn’t say anything else. Brian hesitates, unsure of how much he should push the issue, and ventures a quiet, “Are you sure? You seem a bit…”

Freddie doesn’t reply. Brian bites his lip. “Do you want a tea or anything?”

“That would be nice,” Freddie says quietly.

He’s probably only saying it to get rid of Brian, but Brian is glad of the excuse to do something so he goes and makes them a cuppa each anyway.

As the water boils he thinks back to the various times he’s seen Freddie get upset. It happens more easily than people think, because Freddie pretends to be tough when he’s really not. He’s brave, hard when he wants or needs to be, but in his deepest nature he is one of the most soft-hearted people Brian knows.

Brian hates the idea of anyone upsetting him. The usual suspects are nasty or thoughtless comments about his teeth, his skin, his style. Brian wonders if that’s the case today but decides not to ask. He doesn’t want to pry, or to make Freddie relive whatever it was.

He takes him his tea and sits down on the sofa’s armrest as he tries to think of ways to help. The music is still playing in the background – Bob Dylan, he realises, sighing out a song about love’s sting.

They listen to the music together for a while. Brian tries not to glance sideways at Freddie too much, not wanting him to feel stared at, but it’s hard. He just wants to see Freddie smile, for some of the tension to leave his shoulders.

A new song starts in the background, a gentle, lilting melody that Brian vaguely recognises. _“I keep thinking about you, baby,_” Dylan murmurs, “_and I can’t hardly sleep…”_

Brian glances at Freddie again. Freddie’s mouth is still downturned, his eyes are still sad, and that simply will not do.

An idea presents itself and Brian stands up to act on it before he can question himself. He puts his cup down and stands up, walking across the room to where Freddie is curled up in the corner. He holds out his hand.

Freddie looks at his hand and then up at Brian, his expression quizzical and – Brian hates this – a little bit wary. He doesn’t say anything, but the question is clear in his gaze.

Brian doesn’t answer it. Freddie doesn’t need words, right now; whatever he says will sound empty, bland placations that don’t take away the hurt. He takes the cup from Freddie and puts it down, then places his hands on Freddie’s and slides his own underneath, his fingers curling feather-light around Freddie’s until they’re holding hands, just about. Then he tugs Freddie gently to his feet.

“What are you - ?” Freddie begins.

Brian shakes his head and Freddie falls quiet. They stand together for a moment or two, hands still joined. Brian doesn’t want to yank Freddie about, he wants Freddie to have the chance to pull back if he wants to.

He doesn’t, so Brian steps back into the middle of the room, bringing Freddie with him. They’re got space now, but it’s not as easy to know what to do from this point onwards.

Freddie is still watching him curiously. Brian mentally kicks his own awkwardness aside and just goes for it; he pulls Freddie’s hands back and forth in a funny little jerky motion, and it’s hardly a recognisable dance move as such but it does the trick; Freddie, getting the idea, looks up at Brian with surprise and no small amount of confusion.

Brian just does it again, and again, until Freddie’s mouth twitches into something resembling a smile. Encouraged, Brian lets go of one of Freddie’s hands, putting his own hand on Freddie’s waist. His brain goes blank for a moment, so he does the only thing he can think of; he sways them from side-to-side like they’re doing an odd stepless waltz and this time Freddie laughs out loud. It’s only a small thing, a huff of amusement, but it’s miles better than nothing and it makes Brian’s chest feel all warm.

They still don’t talk; there’s something of a challenge in Freddie’s eyes this time as he looks up at Brian, like he’s daring Brian to carry on to see what other bizarre little dance moves he’s going to pull out, but Freddie is smiling as he does it and that’s all Brian cares about.

So Brian adds a bit more to their waltz, moving Freddie around in a not-entirely-confident three step; he sways him and circles with him and spins him under his arm once or twice, encouraged every time Freddie’s eyes meet his and he sees less of that awful quiet sadness and more of something soft and tender.

The second time he spins him, he brings Freddie in to lean against his chest afterwards, dropping his arms to circle Freddie’s waist. Freddie rests his cheek on Brian’s chest and gives a little sigh.

“_I take good care of what belongs to me,”_ Dylan croons in the silence between them.

“You really do,” Freddie murmurs.

It takes Brian a moment to realise what he’s referring to. He looks down at the head of soft black hair resting against his chest and feels like his heart has swelled to twice its size, like it’s trying to climb out of his chest and into his mouth so that he can say all the words that usually lodge in his throat, so he can make Freddie feel like he deserves to feel.

He can’t find the right words right now. He hopes he will one day, but he doesn’t want to spoil the moment by talking over it, or trying to force feelings into a box that they will fall into in their own time.

He lowers his head and presses a kiss to the top of Freddie’s head instead, and he thinks Freddie gets it, because when he shifts just slightly, Brian can see the dimple in his cheek as he smiles.

Dylan sings on in the background and Brian sways along, Freddie warm in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, lovely Freddie. ❤


End file.
